Norway

It is Saturday. A special Saturday. We wake up sheltered by a Supermarket roof next to a loading ramp. A camping spot, the supermarket’s owner offered us the night before. A camping spot, whose roof allowed us to spend a decent night despite the stormy weather. The day starts off with a unique breakfast. Pancakes with nut spread and avocados. Food that we found on our first dumpster dive. A dumpster, that represented a treasure chest on that night. A treasure that made me happy and sad simultaneously. The amount of food supermarkets throw away, the amount of food they waste..

A common situation follows on an uncommon breakfast. We are standing on the road. Sudden snowfall makes us freezing, but it seems fitting at the same time. There is only 30 kilometers between us and the North Cape, today is the day. Today is the day on which we will accomplish our goal. The day we’ve been working forward to for 5 weeks.

3 days earlier we started our final stage in Narvik, only an 11 our car ride away from the Cape. 2 lifts bring us 4 hours closer but it will be our third lift who saves our day. Duffy drops us off near a bus station at 4 PM and offers us a place to sleep. We keep on trying for another hour and decide to accept Duffy’s offer, but there is one problem. We don’t have his exact address. Just a nickname and the color of his car. It is a barely populated rural road that leads along the foot of a mountain. A 90 minutes walk later we must admit, this is not working out. We start ringing doorbells. 2 sketchy looking backpackers straying around, protected by the darkness and scooping out different cars. It must appear suspicious. Most doors stay locked.Fortunately not all of them will.

“Hey there!, this might sound weird but we are searching for someone who must live in this area. His nickname is Duffy, he is approximately 45 years old, drives an old, green car and he is a big Liverpool fan”. Baffled faces and good laughter. It takes us 3 houses to hit pay dirt. “Duffy, yeah I know him! He’s an amazing guy – get in my car, I will bring you to his house”. Duffy welcomes us with dinner and leaves us alone a few minutes later because he is up for some sports. Blind faith that lets me dream of a world without fear and suspicion. Duffy saves us from spending a night outside at -6 degrees, he is our first lifesaver on this final stage.

Fortune, I’ll search for in vain on the day after. Me and Dan split up at a petrol station, because a lorry driver offers him a 2 hour lift to Alta. I have another 5 hours until the petrol station closes. Another 5 hours for asking everyone “Excuse me, are you going towards Alta by any chance?“. 5 hours that won’t be enough in the end. On some days, there is just that little bit of luck missing. As soon as I set up my tent near the patrol station I cast my eyes to the night sky and witness the Northern lights one last time. Retrospectively I am thankful that I ended up spending this night in the nature.

The day after me and Dan meet up in Alta. A long lift by a Liverpool fan and Julian, a German guy who grew up in Norway. The young German with an Emo haircut and an Iron Maiden shirt brings us to Honningsvag, the last city on our way to the North Cape. He drops us at the supermarket, near which we are gonna set up our tents at. He says good bye by handing over two cans of beer. “Drink these at the North Cape “, he said.

It is Saturday. We end up standing on the road for 3 hours, facing snow and rain. Our soaked clothes and strong wind are challenging us. Our finale challenge. The lack of tourists and the fact that locals usually never head towards the North Cape makes hitch hiking almost impossible. A hunter helps out and brings us a little bit closer. He drops us off in the middle of nowhere. He drops us in front of a street sign. It’s only 13 kilometers to the North Cape. Desperately we decide to walk and defy the snow storm. I mean, we did not have a choice anyway. Then, all of a sudden, we spot a car driving in our direction. Hope.

Another lifesaver. A German family that lets us squeeze into their car even though it was already overloaded. Our last lift going North. We reach a gate and stop the car. A gate that separates us from the North Cape Globe Statue. They charge 25 Euros entrance fee. We laugh. Within the last 5 weeks me and Dan hitch hiked over 3000 kilometers, always heading for the North Cape, aiming for a selfie with this Statue. We hug each other proudly and laugh about the ridiculous entrance fee. We realize that it was not about that bloody Statue. It was about achieving something, it was all about the challenge of getting this far north. We end up taking a picture in front of this beautiful North Cape entrance booth instead.

The German family also refuses to pay this entrance fee and gives us another lift back to Honningsvag. Back to the supermarket we started at this morning. We celebrate by drinking Julian’s beer, buying sweets and heating up inside the supermarket. We decide to spend another night over here. A short rest we needed. A rest we deserved. We both agree. Let’s get out of Scandinavia as fast as possible, let’s get out of this cold!

A proposition that gets complicated by the short days. Currently the sun goes down at 2 PM. On our way to a hitch hiking spot a rental car pulls over. “It is you indeed”, followed by a hug. Two German girls who are following my blog recognized me, walking along the road. Unfortunately they can’t give us a lift since they will stay in Honningsvag but still, it let me start my day with a bright smile. A smile that I’ll almost loose within the next 4 hours but Kay helps out and pulls over at the end of a tunnel. A tunnel, we found shelter in from of a suddenly emerging snow storm. The weather over here changes rapidly. There is also a French guy called Loick in Kay’s car. A Couchsurfer. We spend the night together in Kay’s holiday cabin and Loick, who is traveling around witch his own car, will bring us to North Sweden the morning after. Another 400 kilometers.

He drops us off in a 400 inhabitants village and the early nights stop us from hitch hiking any further. We head into a pizza place, the only public place that is able to give off some heat. Our naivety got us into a difficult situation. It’s gonna be warmer in the South. Wrong. Around the North Cape we had about -3 degrees. In North Sweden temperatures are supposed to drop down to -15 on this night. Hope for another lift keeps us alive, our camping gear would hardly do. A young worker from the mines enters the pizzeria, another Daniel, another lifesaver. He takes us 400 kilometers further South and can’t leave us outside with these temperatures. His car displays -17 degrees. Daniel calls his girlfriend and organizes us a place for the night. His girlfriend’s father owns a restaurant that is closed in winter. This will be our private house for one night. A restaurant straight on the Arctic Circle. A tourist attraction in summer, a ghost house in winter. But not tonight.

Loud Music blasting out of my speaker, hot coffee and 2 naked dudes, relaxing in the sauna. We can hardly believe our luck. The owner of the restaurant also presents us with a Arctic Circle certificate, which he usually sells to tourists. “Who the hell is supposed to believe these stories”, I do ask Daniel and he just bursts out laughing. As we leave the house the morning after we spot a Statue next to the restaurant. We missed the globe Statue at the North Cape, but we got to the one at the Arctic Circle. It almost feels like destiny.

Halloween

A 65 years old stranger brings us to a tunnel system, that was used as a bomb shelter during the war. He locks the lattice gate while holing a shotgun in his hand. A nice horror scenario, isn’t it? A scenario that will become reality on this year’s Halloween.

Daniel number 3 drops us off 200 km South of the Arctic Circle on the 31st of October. An extremely bad spot. We try to wave down cars for 2 hours and decide to search for a petrol station. Within the next 5 hours we walk 20 kilometers until we find one. An extremely bad one. At 8 PM the staff offers us a lift into the city. A lift to a 24 hour petrol station. On our way there, his car breaks down and we have to walk once again. It’s one of these days.The worst Halloween ever. But the evening takes an unexpected turn. A man called Bengtake offers us to sleep in his office. An office that will turn out to be the most appropriate spot for Halloween I could think of, a story, that is simply unbelievable.

Bengtake opens a big lattice gate that reminds me of a prison. Me and Dan look at each other doubtfully and we enter the tunnel. Our hosts walks us to a wooden door, the door to his office. The office is full of architecture papers and hotel models. Bengtake wants to build a hotel on top of the hill, we are standing in right now. “Is it difficult to find an investor for such a project”, I ask and get an unexpected answer. “I had an investor, but he got killed”…brief moment of silence…what the hell...“The Americans killed my investor 6 years ago. I was a business partner of Gaddafi, and I visited him a few months before he died”. He wishes us a good night, takes the shotgun that was standing next to his office desk and leaves our room. We can hear the metal door snapping shut and we laugh. Again. An uncommon but true lifesaver. I could not have thought of any better one considering it’s Halloween.

“Who the hell is supposed to believe these stories?”

Honestly, we felt a slight relief when Bengtake actually showed up the morning after and gave us a lift to a petrol station. On this point me and Daniel split up again and both hitch hiked 1500 kilometers in the course of the next 2 days and met again near Malmö. Over there we found another lift, who agreed on bringing us to a ferry station in the South of Sweden. We took a ferry to Rostock. Martina picket me up at the harbor. A German lawyer, I met in Jordan a few months ago. She has been accommodating me for the last few days. A beautiful little break before I keep on hitching to Berlin tomorrow.

We made it. I am back in Germany. I hitch hiked to the North Cape wearing cord trousers and cowboy bootsin late October. What a stupid and funthing to do! I must admin, I underestimated the weather conditions but hell yeah, I’d do it again. Thinking of the last few weeks makes me happy and proud. It was a challenge, an achievement, a real adventure.

An adventure, I would have not survived without all these lifesavers on the Scandinavian roads.

The subtle rush of the sea. Wind, which makes my tent flapping. The clicking sound of a tuna can, today’s dinner. I open the zipper of my tent and the spectacle begins.

Green colors, spreading on the firmament, like a painter who’s trying hard to turn the sky into a piece of art. Lights, that suddenly start dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. A spectacle, words can’t describe. Beauty, that almost moves me to tears. While I’m curiously starring towards the stars, I must inevitably think about my last 3 weeks. About shaking while hitch hiking in the snow, about soaked nights under bridges, about days that made me doubt, about all these people who helped me within the last weeks. About all these people who led me to this moment. I succeeded, I made it past the arctic circle, I am marveling at the first Aurora Borealis of my life.

I am gazing at green lights.

12 hours earlier, me and Daniel left Anitas house about 400 kilometers further down South. She did a lot of hitch hiking herself and knows a bunch of lorry drivers. She just makes a few calls and organizes 2 trucks for us. A 7 hour ride that once again leads me through Norway’s picturesque landscape.

A short ferry ride is the end of my lorry lift. It just takes a few minutes waving down cars on the road and a 25 years old guy from Irak pulls over. A question and an answer that will render me speechless. “What are your experiences with racism in Norway, did you have any problems?”, I ask Sultan, who fled from his homeland 10 years ago. A brief sigh. “To be honest, the reason for me driving North to my family is a phone call, which I had this morning with my mum. Today, my young sister committed suicide because she could not handle the mobbing at her school”. A long sigh. I say goodbye while giving him a hug and find myself sitting in a new car 5 minutes later. A guy who is on his way to the hospital. His wife is expecting their child. Sometimes life and death lie close together.

It will happen on this evening. I will see my first Northern lights. I will fall asleep with a victorious feeling. I am proud. A few hours later I’ll wake up and realize, that my tent’s zippers are frozen. Relentless cold is the price for the green lights.A price I am willing to pay. The rising sun at 9 AM helps us, getting out of our tents and lets us start into our first day at the Lofoten full of joy and excitement.

It is Saturday, our third day in the Lofoten area.The day started alike most of the last three weeks. My alarm wakes me up at 8 AM but the chill temperatures let me stay in my sleeping bag for another 30 minutes, before I open the entrance of my tent. Breakfast, that consists of a banana, bread, peanut butter with jam and nut spread. A sunrise, that barely spends any heat. In retrospective I’d say, that this Saturday has been the most breathtaking day of my Norway journey so far.

Reinebringen is the name of the hike, we did choose for this morning. A hike, that is currently closed because of a high number of accidents and deaths. A fact, that doesn’t stop us from hiking this mountain. A fact, that makes us enjoy the view almost without any other tourists. A view, I must describe as beautiful.

As we walk into a supermarket 2 hours later, we are welcomed with coffee and cake. One of the employees celebrates her birthday. Why am I telling you this? Well, just to give you an idea about how tiny these little villages in the Lofoten area actually are.

It just takes us one lift to get to our today’s target, a near beach from which we wanna witness some more Northern lights.The day ended alike most of the last three weeks. A dinner, that consists of bread and canned fish. These monotonous meals get scattered by different special offers, we encounter every now and then. This time it’s mandarins. An hour later, the sun disappears and we catch the first green lights.

Over-chilled and a bit disappointed we head back into our tents around 9 PM. But I don’t wanna give up and set an alarm for 11 PM. I am dragging myself out of the tent hesitantly as my smartphone wakes me up with a gentle melody. The green lights have not changed at all. But my patience will pay off. 40 minutes later the spectacle starts and makes me hold my breath for 3 minutes. A spectacle, that puts the first night to shame. A spectacle that ends as abrupt as it had begun.

Hands down, this was the most impressive nature spectacle I have ever witnessed in my entire life.

Our list hike at the Lofoten leads us to a remote beach on which we set up our tents for the fourth nirght in a row. By now,I guess there is no need to talk about Norway’s beauty anymore. Instead I just wanna let these pictures speak for themselves.

We left the Lofoten yesterday. It took us 3 lifts to arrive in Narvik. We are staying with a host one of our past lifts got us in touch with. The first hot shower and warm meal since 5 days are a welcome change. A thick blanket and a couch make me feel like staying in a Hilton hotel.

That’s it, I have accomplished my goal. I have seen the Northern lights. Now it’s time for a little tidbit. 12 hours by car separate me from the North Cape. It’s supposed to start snowing soon and I am curious what these last kilometers in Norway hold ready for me. But honestly, as much as I enjoy this country, I can’t wait to wake up in my own bed back home again in a few weeks.

Without frozen zippers, without nut spread and without a sleeping bag.

A rotten, wooden shelter. A place, where people usually wait for their bus. I lean back, whip out my smartphone and try to forget about my soaked clothes for a few minutes. It is Daniel’s shift, he’s standing in the rain, trying to stop potential lifesavers. It’s only a few minutes and we will change roles. I swipe down my Facebook feed and stop at a post, that Frode is tagged in. Frode, the blond haired, generous guy who picked us up and invited us over 2 weeks ago. “I was 18 when I left home and started hitch hiking”, he told us, while his 16 years old daughter Tuva was sitting on the passenger seat, searching for the next song on Spotify. A pretty girl who was hiding her short hair under a woolen cap. A girl, I would have guessed younger than 16.

A post, that gave me goosebumps within seconds. A post, that silenced me for a while. 1 hour later me and Dan set up our tents under a nearby bridge, which offered shelter from the heavy rain.

A post, that stayed in my head and chastened me until I felt asleep.

The morning after, the rain clouds decided to take a little break. Amanuel, who was born in Uganda, picked us up in a blue post office van. “Do you see many hitch hikers in Africa”, asks Daniel with a little ‘Liverpool mutter’. “If you can see a lot HIV in Africa? Ouh yes”, answers our lift. An uncommon start for a half an hour long conversation, that made me laugh out loud more than once. In the course of this day we got plenty of short lifts. The main road wiggles along beautiful mountains and remote villages. Landscapes what made me enjoy every second of our lifts.

Rapidly dropping temperatures turn our day into a feat towards the afternoon. Chill winds make us shiver on the side of the road as soon as the sun started hiding behind the with snow decorated mountain range. 2 hours later a 77 years old man stops. A long, grey beard filled with leftovers, which imply his last meal, a driving style according to his age and the urge to tell us about his children. I can feel how much he misses their company. A weekend trip to his holiday cabin, alone. A man, who hopefully won’t break under his loneliness. While I am heaving my backpack out of his car’s trunk, his half opened traveling bag catches my eye. 2 bottles filled with hard liquor are starring at me.Hopefully.

Me and Daniel assumed, that the old man will drive us over the mountain pass. Instead he drops us right at its highest point on 1300 meters. A short snowball fight, gallows humor and the certainty, that we caught a lift from a cold spot to an even colder one.

A studied pastor helps out half an hour later. A pastor, who broke under his profession. A pastor who works in a supermarket at 1300 meter altitude searching for ‘in his own words’ the meaning of life. We say goodbye 10 kilometers later. Only a short lift but he brought us beneath the snowline. We spend the night between an old, white church and a graveyard, whose size makes my home village look like a metropolis.

The morning after me and Dan get confronted with an unfamiliar situation. A lorry pulls over while I was phoning with a German friend. Sorin, originally from Ukraine, who has been maneuvering his truck on these narrow and curvy Scandinavian streets for a few years already. A short haired man in his mid forties, whose marriage broke apart due to his job. A dry sense of humor, that makes me grin every now and again. He proudly shows us pictures of his 23 years old son on Facebook, a handsome young fella. A son, whose life Sorin has been following up on social media for the last few years.

Recently, me and Daniel live a life on the street. Hitch hiking, tenting, fast-food chains that temporarily provide cover from long lasting rainstorms and monotonous but cheap food, that we are carrying around in our stuffed backpacks. A journey, that pushes us to our limits. A journey, that is getting eased by splendid lifts and brief moments of sunshine.

We arrive in Trondheim after 5 days on the road. Halvard, a 31 years old Norwegian, accepted our last minute Couchsurfing requests and allows us some rest. “A facial expression that I’ve never seen before”, explains Halvard. “This is his relieved face right after we crossed the border”, he says and points his finger towards the TV screen, on which we witness a compilation of his Gopro footage. Halvard and his best friends joined a half marathon last year. A half marathon in North-Korea. His friend almost got arrested because he was chewing bubble gum at a public spot. Apparently that’s considered as rude in North Korea. “A different world”, Halvard calls it and proudly shows us his marathon certificate and an unopened pack of North Korean cigarettes. North-Korea…a thought that accompanied me during this evening. ‘A different world’ I’d love to see.

Halvard has been working on a cruise for 5 years already. 3 weeks of work, 3 weeks off. A schedule that makes a normal life and hobbies almost impossible. He wants to change it, he wants to lead his life into a new direction before he breaks under it. “Go traveling”. That’s the best advice I can give. ‘Traveling‘ changed my life. ‘Traveling‘ has opened my eyes. On Monday morning, Halvard drops us at a perfect hitch hiking spot outside of Trondheim. He drops us in Hell. Yes, this is indeed the name of a village over there.

Fortune and misfortune do often lie close together while hitch hiking. This Monday, we are quite lucky. Mathias, a young dude who walked from South Norway to the North Cape in 3 months, picks us up and brings us 500 kilometers further North. We crossed the polar circle. The Tuesday after we get unlucky. We wait for 6 hours in pouring rain.Misfortune that turned into fortune at 4 PM. Anita stops in her black BMW and invites us over to her farm house. She offers us to stay for 2 nights and she will bring us to the Lofoten on Thursday morning. Our current target. On Friday, the weather is supposed to be great for 5 days. This is our chance. This is our chance to see the northern lights.

There is a luminous glass cabinet in Anita’s living room. Inside there is a broken vase. “The heat made it burst into 4 pieces. This one looks like a pyramid, this one like a boat. Sometimes you can find beauty even in broken things“, she explained.

The Facebook post shows Frode, together with one of his friends on a mental health gala. A short text describes Frode’s story. “Frode was 17 years old when his father committed suicide”. That must be the reason for him hitch hiking away from his home. “Later his life will face him with a new challenge after his daughter Tuva was born. In the age of 3 she got diagnosed with a rare type of leukemia, which has very bad actuarial projections. His daughter lives today, but is still fighting hard”. The short hair… “What I take with me from this day is that life is so unbelievably fragile and brutal but at the same time so incredibly nice and well”, is what the post says.

“I feel like sometimes the nicer people are the strong and the suffering ones, whereas the mean people are those living comfortably. That sucks”, says one of my friends, I talked with about Frode. And she is right. When we met Frode 2 weeks ago, he talked about the importance of finding joy in every day even if life seems difficult. Words, whose severity I’ve become aware of way after our lift. These are the moments, that make me hope Karma actually exists. These are the moments, that make me bow to someones attitude to life. These are the moments, that I will never forget.

Sweat, that is running down my face, dropping towards the frozen, wooden footbridge. Asian tourists, clowning around with me and my English companion. Sweat, that makes by body feel cold despite the thick, green jacket I’m wearing. A German joint family, which saw us standing on the road 2 days ago. Sweat, that will be worth while in the end. A truly breathtaking view. The beauty of Norway, the beauty of its nature.

Driving rain, bald trees as shelter. Helplessly, we’re waiting for an opportunity to set up our tents early. There it is. We make it right on time. It is 4 PM, 6 hours after we marveled at Preikestolen. The sound of a streaming waterfall and the rain, beating a drum on our tents will prematurely charm us to sleep. Rapidly changing weather conditions. Extreme variations in temperature. Norway can be relentless. Relentless and wild, like a beast.

Norway is a beauty and a beast.

We reached Tao 1 day earlier. A spacious ferry dropped us off in this small village, after we had sat out the rain in Stavanger. We stray through the dark, searching for a place to pitch our tents. A library next to a basketball court remedies. A magic library that turns into a school plus kindergarten as soon as the sun rises. An unfamiliar sight for kids, parents and teaching staff. While people in Germany would probably call the police, people over here welcome us with curiosity. The headmaster recommends me a good hitch hiking spot, the female teachers greet me with an exhilarated smile and the school kids accompany our breakfast with Red Hot Chilli Peppers music. A remarkable tast of music for a roughly 12 years old boy who’s boasting with his new smartphone.

Our plan is to hike all the way along the fjord. 43 kilometers. Unfortunately the weather will make this impossible. The highest precipitation amount within 40 years and still ongoing isolated showers turn the hiking trail into an obstacle course. Mud, slippery rocks, moisture and fallen trees. We end up playing ‘the floor is lava’ more than once.

We need to abort the hike after 15 kilometers. On a Sunday, a sunny Sunday. We arrive in a tiny village from where a ferry departs, once a day. While we’re waiting on the pier, a Norwegian couple tells us about some Dutch dudes, who jumped into the water a few days ago. The approximately 7 degrees cold water makes me hesitate but the fact, that I haven’t had a shower for 4 days already, pushes me to jump. The beauty of the fjord turns into harsh coldness.

The ferry arrives in Lysebotn, we walk along the narrow street for about half an hour and we get picked up. We get a lift straight to the parking area from which the Kjeragbolten hike starts. Our lift leaves us with a can of beer each, a beer that we’re supposed to enjoy during the sunset. Hendrik, the American parking attendant, tells us in an unambiguous but still funny way, that we better get a move on. ‘Hurry the fuck up, get to the summit, enjoy the sunset and set up your tents. But it’s gonna be fucking cold, -4 degrees. I am pretty sure you guys will know each other way better tomorrow morning’. We start together but split up after a few minutes. English Daniel gives up. He feels too exhausted. I feel similar, but I fight my way up. 3 hours later I’m sitting on the 1000 meter summit, having an icecold beer and I admire the sunset. Beauty, that words can barely describe. An almost perfect moment in spite of the temperature.

Waking up. The desire to stay but the need to leave. I have to pee. I expect a night sky covered with stars, I expect a beautiful scenery. I count 5 stars. And I feel the cold. My warm tent turns into a chill prison. Rolling around restlessly, a grin as soon as I realize, that my tent is frozen from the outside. A hopeful glimpse at my watch.02:00. The certainty, that the coldest phase is just about to start. Why the hell am I doing this? This question will get answered 8 hours later. Kjeragbolten, a little rock, which got stuck between two cliffs. 1000 meters above ground. A big step forward, holding my breath for a few seconds, waiting for the tourist I met a few minutes earlier to take an appropriate picture. Death luring me to step either a bit forwards or backwards. Another big step back to the safe plateau. 5 seconds, that make my bungee and skydiving experiences appear ridiculous.

A 2 hour descent later, I celebrate reunion with Daniel. He turned 20 over night. The parking attendant Hendrik offered him breakfast and gave him a new pair of trousers. His night was similar to mine. Relentlessly cold. 3 hours later we meet 2 women, I talked to before on my way down. Amalie and her mother Anna. They offer us a shower and a bed in Stavanger. Something we can’t and won’t reject. In addition to that they order pizza. The same pizza Frode ordered a week ago. Happy Birthday Dan!

The morning after we hit the road again. Enough hiking through national parks. It’s time to head North. 2 lifts later and we’ll find ourselves standing on the road, hitch hiking in pouring rain. We wait for 40 minutes. 40 minutes that feel like 2 hours.Soaked clothes all day through. Before we’ll get our last lift for the day, we have to walk over a large bridge. A diverting but stunningview. A welcome change.Beauty and the beast.

Beauty and the beast.

Amalie’s family has a hot tub on their porch. Me and Dan spend about 2 hours in its hot water, recovering from the last few days. The beast took a toll on us. Soaked clothes and -4 degrees cold nights took plenty of strength. I have to tighten my belt weekly.

Beauty. Unfortunately beautiful Jasmin from Taiwan, that’s how a German newspaper dubbed her, didn’t get her internship in Spain. If you were hoping for a romantic reunion in January, I have to put you off once again.

The beast. My beard grows longer again. 2 weeks in Scandinavia left its mark. Thinner cheeks, dirty clothes and messy hair. That’s exactly how I imagined my trip into the wild. And to be honest, the real adventure is just about to start. A journey, that will face us with both sides of Norway.

A regular D, a simple a, a sized, curved k, an antique seeming u, a bold, smiling n and an a, decorated with a heart. Dakuna. At first glance it might seem like an arbitrary order of letters in different fonts but it has a bigger meaning to me. I distributed each letter to either a family member or a close friend. I let them choose individually how to write their letter. It became a weird mix, it became a unique mix.

But what about the name itself. People who know me personally are aware of Dakuna not being my last name. Instead it derives from an old Disney term. Hakuna Matata. It means no worries, for the rest of your days. The last week has been a new experience, even for me. No organized Couchsurfing hosts, rough weather conditions and insane prices. It’s the reason why most people don’t hitch hike in Scandinavia. It’s a challenge. It is exactly what I was looking for. But hey, Hakuna Matata. No worries!

Short, backwards blow-dried blond hair, hiking boots, that indicate an experienced traveler. A backpack, which exposes him as a greenhorn. A face, my grandmother would fall for in seconds, a name, that could not be any easier to remember. Daniel. He disguises his face with big sunglasses. Sunglasses similar to the ones I was wearing about 10 years ago. ‘Dude, take them off – people wanna see your face‘. Sometimes I feel like a mentor. I feel like an old hand, who helps this 19 years old English guy on his first hitch hiking trip. A companion, I met in Copenhagen. A friend, I am going to hitch together with towards the North Cape. A welcome change to all these short stories.

Our first night. A night under a sky covered with stars, surrounded by an irascible background noise. A night in the middle of a jungle. A concrete jungle. The noise of cars driving by and loud shining billboards substitute chirping crickets and an ocean full of sparkling stars. A night, without the classic hide and seek game. Wild camping in Sweden and Norway is legal. At least in theory.

Angels. It’s neither the first, nor will it be the last one on this journey. No Hallelujah, no 1200 kilometers lift to Germany, but just a simple question. ‘Are you guys in a hurry?’. Victoria, a 23 years old Swedish girl with flat, dark dyed hair, offers us to explore the West coast of Sweden. Her grey Peugeot takes us from village to village and stops near breathtaking islands and rock formations. Accompanied by a CD full of old rock songs. How you remind me, Songs, that make me feel old. This is how you remind me, Songs, that remind me of actually being old.

Victoria is driving to her family’s house. A summer house nearby the sea. A lonely house in a tiny village near the Norwegian border. Naturally she offers us to join her and spend the night together. Truly an angel. Humans tend to exaggerate but Victoria decided to do the opposite. A quite summer house was quite a understatement. I’ve rarely seen a house in such a beautiful and remote area. We are playing ‘never have I ever‘ while watching a gorgeous sunset. ‘Never have I ever been in love’. I am the only one drinking. I take a gulp. Next question.

‘I am sorry for my fellow countrymen – Get in‘. An interesting habit. Almost every second lift talks about his fellow citizens in a bad way. If that’s reprehensible?Might be. If I would talk differently about German people after picking up 2 soaked backpackers near a highway entrance?Probably not. This lift offers Daniel a couch, I’m gonna spend my 2 nights in Oslo with Monika.

‘A different life’ says the 25 years old Norwegian woman. Her slim, trained body reminds of her old cheerleading days, her blond hair in combination with her size remind of Scandinavia. I met Monika 3 years ago on my semester abroad in Australia. ‘A different life’ indeed. It feels great to wallow in memories. Since we first met, both our lives went into completely different directions. 2 directions which led to a reunion in Oslo 3 years later. A hug, a last stroke for Monika’s puppy and the certainty, that I’ve changed a lot during the last 3 years.

7 hours. 5 kilometer. Our first lift picks us up at an average petrol station and drops us a few kilometer later at a great spot. In theory. Road works make hitch hiking impossible. We try it anyway and get dismissed by the police a few minutes later. In the course of this Tuesday, we end up walking 10 kilometer. That’s more than we hitched. We walk from hitch hiking spot to hitch hiking spot. Unsuccessful. We reach our last spot at 6 PM. We’re just about to give up, we’re already talking about dinner and we’re thinking about where to set up our tents. Victoria won’t be the only angel appearing in this week.

Forde, a 39 years old Norwegian whose appearance compares with David Guetta. He does not like this comparison but he prefers it over the Kid Rock one. I agree.Frode and his 16 years old daughter drive us for 280 kilometer and even invite us over to their home. Frode is the boss of a Norwegian fashion label and has a weakness for unhealthy pizza. A weakness for the benefit of me and Daniel. For people living in this area, owning a boat is a common thing. And so does Frode. He invites us for a little fishing trip in the morning. 3 crabs, a rainbow and an effective way of blow drying my long hair after a morning shower.

When Frode drops us at a roundabout near the highway entrance at 11 AM, he handed over a 100 Kronen (about 12 Dollar) bill. He wants to help us by paying for our future ferries (apparently we have to take some in order to get to North Norway). We give thanks to Frode and bid goodbye in a humble way. Our way to Stavanger leads over country roads, through many rain showers, it leads along beautiful sceneries and ends at a petrol station half way in between Kristiansande and our destination. Pouring rain makes hitch hiking impossible, we have to stop at 7 PM. While warming up in the petrol station I spot a grey, pleasant looking men refilling his energy reserves by drinking coffee and eating overpriced burgers. ‘Are you going to Stavanger by chance?’, I asked. 5 Minutes later we’re sitting in his bus. We are driving another 120 kilometer to our destination. Martin is our second last minute lift.We arrive at 10 PM.

Me and Daniel woke up near the city center this morning. We set up our tents near a lake. It was raining all night. When we decided to take down our tents we got surprised by another rain shower which made sure that pretty much all our stuff is wet right now. Hakuna Matata. Today’s weather forecast says rain all day. We’re sitting it out in a Burger King and head to the national parks tomorrow. It’s supposed to be sunny and I hope the forecast is right. We need to dry our stuff. We got unbelievably lucky in these last few days. Luck, that makes me looking ahead optimistically. Luck, that we need if we wanna hitch hike another 2500 kilometer to the North Cape.

Yesterday I checked Frode’s banknote once again. My first Norwegian one. I realized he did not give me 100 but 1000 Kronen. Approximately 120 Dollar. Within the last few weeks I silently crossed a specific mark. 20000 kilometer which means I hitch hiked half way around our planet. Still, there is hitch hiking moments that make me speechless. People whose generosity moves me to tears…Angels…People, I’ll hopefully see again one day in my beach bar.